


Quench

by kranquro



Series: Thirst [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Bald Kankuro Rights, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Wholesome until it isn't, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kranquro/pseuds/kranquro
Summary: Six years. Six years in Episar, in this happy and thriving city. Six years in this happy and thriving relationship, where he wanted for nothing.Nothing except that. But Kiba didn’t want that. He didn’t want that at all. He had his reasons, Kankuro respected them. It was fine. They were fine.“It’s fine,” he decided as he padded into the kitchen to give the half eaten sandwich to the dogs; his own appetite gone.“It’s all good,” he assured them, scratching behind Akamaru’s ear.
Relationships: Inuzuka Kiba/Kankurou
Series: Thirst [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022581
Comments: 35
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

In the six years since it had been pronounced a city state of Wind Country, Episar had thrived.

The streets were clean, the informal housing improved with electricity and plumbing, and the economy was booming. Trade had increased between Suna, River Country and even Konoha, with the help of a strong ambassador, who currently resided in the little flat-roofed house beside the ninja academy. Just him, two dogs, one ninken and a very grumpy Kankuro who doesn’t like walking up at 7am every weekday for an early morning run.

Groaning, Kankuro cuddled closer into the pillow he was lying on as the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon drifted into their bedroom from the adjoining kitchen. The clicking sounds of three sets of paws padding around the tiled floor awoke him fully from his doze, in time to hear Kiba attempt to quietly dissuade their dogs from eating the breakfast he had made.

“Burger! Get down from there!” The sound of claws hitting the kitchen floor before skidding away to the living room told Kankuro the dog must have gotten away with a slice of meat or two. “You little fucker,” grumbled Kiba. Kankuro smiled into his pillow, eyes still closed. Soon Kiba appeared at the door with two bacon sandwiches and two cups of coffee, so he feigned disgruntlement and flopped over on the bed til he was facing away from the door.

“Oi, lazy bones. Get up,” commanded Kiba, poking him in the butt with his toe. Kankuro just burrowed further into the blankets with a whine of complaint.

“It’s too early.”

Kiba scoffed. “Too early for…bacon? Coffee?” He rounded the bed to Kankuro’s side. But Kankuro only flopped around again to face away from him, hopelessly tangling the sheets around his legs. Kiba placed the plate and mugs down on the bedside table. “Too early for..cuddles?” And then there were hands carefully unfurling the sheets around him and a warm body sliding in behind him. Kankuro pulled the arms that snaked round his middle tighter until Kiba had him in a firm spoon from behind.

“Never,” he said, snuggling back into the warmth of the shirtless man behind him who nuzzled the short hairs at his nape. “But it is too early for _running_.” He felt the mischievous grin against the back of his neck and he knew what was coming.

“Don’t even think ab-!”

But it was too late. Kiba locked his hands around Kankuro and reared to the side, tugging his struggling boyfriend above him and baring his kicking legs to the cool morning air. Kiba sat up then, abruptly putting Kankuro vertical, and slid him into the space between his legs as he lay back on the headboard. Before Kankuro knew it he was holding a bacon sandwich, which was slightly bigger than Kiba’s own, which already had a bite taken out of it. Accepting defeat, he lay back on his boyfriend’s chest and grumpily gave Kiba a side glare over his shoulder around a mouthful of bread. Kiba just smiled and scrubbed Kankuro’s stubbly head in response. A small bit of grease shone at the corner of his mouth and after swallowing Kankuro leaning behind him and kissed the spot in gratitude.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” he said, while reaching for his cup in confusion. “Although, I thought we were out of coffee.”

“We were. I went and got some last night.” Kankuro hummed in delight. Taking a sip, his eyes widened in delight and he melted back into the warmth. “This is from the Suna Roasters! Ugh, Kiba, marry me, please.”

He took a larger gulp before choking slightly as he felt the body behind him tense. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that-I didn’t mean to bring it up. Uh..slip of the tongue.”

Kiba chuckled awkwardly, and Kankuro suddenly uneasy. So he sat forward to take another bite of his slightly larger sandwich. Looking to hastily change the subject, he made an alarmed sound around his breakfast “Why is this so much bigger than yours?!” His mouth was full, his hair was scruffy, he could feel the crusts in his eyes and pillow lines on his face. He must have been such a state, but still Kiba leaned forward and kissed his cheek in assurance.

As if to say, _no harm caused._

“Burger got at the bacon, so I gave you the sandwich with more. Eat up! We’re out that door in ten!” He pointed in the opposite direction, his tanned and freckled arm reaching over Kankuro’shead. Kiba was headed towards the bathroom, his own sandwich long gone, leaving him to finish his breakfast and process his thoughts. There was a lump in his throat that the sandwich found hard to get around.

Six years. Six years in Episar, in this happy and thriving city. Six years in this happy and thriving relationship, where he wanted for nothing.

Nothing except _that_. But Kiba didn’t want that. He didn’t want that at all. He had his reasons, Kankuro respected them. It was fine. They were _fine_.

“It’s fine,” he decided as he padded into the kitchen to give the half eaten sandwich to the dogs; his own appetite gone.“It’s all good,” he assured them, scratching behind Akamaru’s ear.

—

Lessons at the academy followed their run. The school was well-staffed now. Enough that they only had to teach morning classes, and had the afternoons for ambassadorial duties. It wasn’t like that in the beginning, when they would begin their days training children who were inexperienced in formal education and shinobi technique alike. It was more than a bit chaotic. Teaching as well as managing their village roles dominated their time and in those first two years, they’d often collapsed into bed as soon as they’d gotten home. It was exhausting, and difficult. And had made Kankuro long for the days of solo missions in far away lands. But it was during those times, managing draining day jobs, that they discovered their lives together were better than anything they’d ever had apart.

Kankuro sat in his office thinking on these things, his uncertainty from this morning just a whisper at the back of his mind. A pile of scrolls sat before him, which he’d intended to get through before an evening meeting, but seeing the seal of Suna’s Council he decided he couldn’t face another missive begging him to consider marrying any of the suitors lined up. They’d never stopped pushing their agenda for suitable heirs, but he supposed it was due since they’d never forgotten how he crossed them to support Episar six years ago. It was suitable penance, and considering he lived over a day’s journey from them, one that was easily served by simply not responding to their scrolls.

He passed over it, instead picking up one he’d received from Gaara’s personal hawk a few minutes earlier. His brother’s message was succinct, as usual, but Kankuro frowned as Gaara requested his presence in Suna, if he could spare it, this weekend. But there was no rush, if he couldn’t it would be fine.A small worry shot through him, his brother didn’t usually ask for his counsel so casually.

He’d leave in the morning, he decided, and and try be back for classes on Tuesday considering Monday was for independent training at home. Kiba could handle the weekend alone, no doubt slobbing it up on the sofa with the hounds.

The man in question appeared at his door then. He’d opted out of his usual jacket today, instead wearing a black turtleneck underneath his Konoha vest, hiding the accidental mark Kankuro had left on his neck the night before. He chuckled. Twenty-seven years old and he still liked giving hickeys.

Kiba matched his grin with bewilderment, while unconsciously pulling at the restrictive fabric. “What are you laughing at, loser?”

“A bigger loser. “

Kiba rolls his eyes. “Alright _loser_ , let’s get this meeting over with and head home. I’m beat. Those kids really did a number on me and Akamaru today,” he continued as Kankuro followed him into the corridor. “I had to send him home early to nap.”

“So that means dog hairs on the bed again?”

“When is there _not_ dog hairs on the bed?”

“…This is true.”

“Who are we meeting today again?”

“The son of a River lord I met quite a few years ago. Looking to make a name for himself in the political game no doubt. I don’t even think he has anything to offer us or a deal to make. His father probably sent him to oversee the continuation of our previous agreements. It’ll be over quick enough I’d say. I’ve already pawned him onto Cinta and Nath to entertain him for dinner.”

Kiba sighed in relief, grabbing Kankuro’s hand and swiftly kissing the back of it. “You’re the best,” he said, and Kankuro tugged the same hand over to peck the back of Kiba’s too. It left behind a smudge of purple, which Kiba hastily tried to wipe off before they entered the meeting.

It was a blissfully sweet moment, like one of the many they shared everyday. And, like always, Kankuro wished that he could capture the memory, and store it somewhere for safekeeping. It’s funny that he’d thought that then, as after that day the moment did in fact brand itself in his mind forever.

After that moment, it all went to shit.

—

Kiba had stormed out of the meeting, and then the building, with Kankuro hot on his heels. The Konoha ninja dint ever bother to enter through the front door of their home, instead barrelling through the open bedroom window and setting off their wards in the process. Akamaru vaulted off the bed and into the kitchen, obviously embarrassed at being caught where he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Kiba! You can’t just-“

“Can’t just what?! Enter my own home?! I’m sorry, I don’t even know why you’re here. Shouldn’t you be at dinner with _your_ guest? Best to leave you two to get to know each other better, hm? I mean, _obviously_ , that was the point of the meeting, right?!” Kankuro almost falls stumbling in the window in his shock at Kiba’s words and the temper behind them.

He catches himself on the workbench beneath the window, knocking his current project askew on its perch. “Uggh, dammit. Kiba, _obviously_ I don’t want to get to know him better! The Council must have sent him, I got a scroll this morning but I didn’t bother to read it.”

“They _still_ send you those?” Kiba ripped off his vest and threw it on the ground near their half-filled laundry basket. Frustration was dripping off him in swathes, and he grit his teeth as if to stop himself from sinking his fangs into his own lip. He growled and turned to face Kankuro. “He was all over you!” A clawed finger was pointed accusatory into Kankuro's face, sending his own hackles raising.

“Get that finger out of my face, Kiba!" He swatted it away. "He barely leaned close! You really need to chill out!” He dropped his scrolls from his back onto their hook on the wall. When he turned back, Kiba was still facing him, but shaking his head profusely.

“No,” affirmed Kiba. “No, this is more that some diplomat hitting on you, or me. We’ve dealt with that before. He was there with _purpose_. Why are the council even setting you up with a _man_? They must have given up needing an heir. Now it’s just anyone more suitable than _me_. And you-you practically told to him you were _single_!”

Kankuro mouth fell open with shock. He couldn't believe this was happening. The lord they had met was extra forward than he was used to, and kiba was obviously angry about that. But that wasn't Kankuro's fault. Not even a little bit. “I did no such thing! I told him I was in a committed relationship. What he thought to say afterwards is entirely up to him, and little does he know he’s ruined his political career here with his rudeness. As if I’d entertain him again.”

Kankuro attempted to soothe his boyfriend, reaching out to wrap his hands around him, but he was cast off. It wasn't working. The most frustrating thing about arguing with Kiba is his penchant to circle back to the same issue, not matter how much Kankuro refuted it. And Kankuro isn’t up for that right now, especially after the disastrous meeting. The River lord had been incredibly obvious in completely disregarding Kankuro’s relationship with Kiba as nothing more than a dalliance.

“So, when he asks you how serious we were,” starts Kiba, whirring in on Kankuro who was tidying his workbench. Anything to escape this conversation without actually leaving the room. “You decide the right thing to do is imply we’re not set in stone.”

Kankuro froze. He turned to regard Kiba with a frown. “He asked if we were planning on getting married,” said Kankuro carefully as an all too familiar lump set itself in his throat.

“You told him we _weren’t_ planning on getting married.”

"But we _a-aren't_?"

"But why did you tell _him_ that?"

Kankuro pressed his closed fist to his forehead and paused to take a breath before he answered. “Look...I told him exactly what _you_ told _me._ We _aren’t_ planning on marrying _._ You don’t believe in it, and I’m okay with that. I’m very happy with our lives the way they are, and it isn’t my fault that others don’t respect that.” The words were forced out with strain, betraying how much they actually bothered him.

Kiba’s nostrils just flared, as he refused to back down. “You could make more of an effort to tell him how committed we are!”

“But I _did_ tell him we were committed!” Kankuro’s astonishment morphed into anger now. 

“You could have tried harder," Kiba spat, with a look of such displeasure that Kankuro could see his fangs right up to his gums with how much his lips curled up. He couldn't meet Kankuro's eyes. It was almost as his Kiba blamed _him_.

Oh.

 _Did_ he blame him?

The fight left Kankuro somewhat, layering in a bone-deep weariness. He tried to approach Kiba, reaching out to grasp his hands around his upper arms again, seeking to provide assurance as well as take his own. But but he’s cast off as Kiba goes to sit on the bed instead.

It hurts. This isn’t his fault. It isn’t his fault that the lord was so impudent. It isn’t his fault that he wants to marry the love of his life. And it definitely isn’t his fault that Kiba doesn’t want to marry him. He just doesn’t like the sacrament of marriage.

And that’s fine.

But this argument is starting to wound, so he wanted to end it before someone goes too far. Kankuro groaned in frustration of his own. “Look, just forget it. You’re right, I’ll just try harder next time.”

“Next time? So you aren’t going to reject the council?”

“I reject them all the time.”

“All the time?”

“As long as I’m not married, they’ll never stop. ”

“As long?...So you’re holding out until someone comes along who _will_ marry you? Or are you just going to keep trying to change my mind?” Kiba eyes are bright and his words are cutting. "Because I have news for you, it's not going to happen. You'll just have to accept that or-or-"

Kankuro stood back. "Or? Or what, we're through?" Kiba looks away again, but Kankuro can see the surprise on his face too, as if he just can't believe he made the ultimatum. The rest of his words slip back down his throat as soon as they form, unable to get past his lips, as if self-preservation is kicking in and anything he says will be doomed to hurt later.

But the silence stretched between them like a great desert of scorching sand, with no hope of an oasis along the way. But Kankuro knew how to traverse a desert, so he started with the word that ached the least. “Kiba-“ But it croaked out as if forced from his throat. Kankuro has been nothing but accepted of Kiba's wishes, despite his own, and the betrayal here feels too much. The fact of the matter is that Kankuro has harboured this guilt over wanting to marry his boyfriend for a year now, and Kiba was the one who gets to act like he's been wronged despite the fact that he's done nothing to deserve it. Anger coursed through him at the thought, that Kiba would do this to him, to them, over petty jealousy?

He steeled himself. "No...you know what? You’re being such a dick right now. As if you think I’m waiting for someone to marry me…because really, are you kidding me right now?! I want to marry you because I _love_ you and I _want_ to spend the rest of my life with you. I want people to know I’m yours, and that you’re mine. But you don’t want it and I’ve made my peace with that. But please recognise the situation you’re putting me in here. If people ask if I’m married what do you actually expect me to say? I’m _not_. You can’t have it both ways. That’s not fair on me, and you know it. _You’re_ the one who wanted things this way.”

There isn’t a beat before Kiba was up in his face.“Oh, so this is my fault? Because I don’t want to repeat my parents’ _mistakes_? ”

Confusion crossed Kankuro’s face. “What? Wait-“

“Because I thought I made this clear to you that it wasn’t something I wanted. _Ever_.” Kiba folded his arms at this, and nodded his head as if to confirm it to himself.

“Wait, wait, wait…Hold on,” Kankuro’s mind is whirring. His hands rose as if to placate a spooked horse. “Whoah. Just to back track here. A _mistake_? I thought you just didn’t like the idea because of your parents’s divorce and it’s affect on you. But…you actually think marrying me would be a _mistake_?” Kankuro voice cracked as his mouth forms the word, the lump in his throat has finally won the war with his voice.

And the gravity of the statement comes down on the room like a ton of bricks, filling their home with choking dust and the weight of their quarrel.

“That’s not what I said.” Kiba stood again but paused his approach at the sight of Kankuro’s mournful face. But it didn’t stop his resentment. “I knew it,” he said, quietly aghast. “I knew you were still hung up on this! I knew it wouldn’t be enough! Kankuro, look at all the sacrifices I’ve made for you! I’ve uprooted my life and left my country and family behind, all for you! You’re going to ruin what we have here because you want _more_ from me? How ungrateful-“

“ _Ungrateful_?!

“Yeah, ungrateful! What have you sacrificed for us? I’ve given you everything!” Their shouts echoed through their home, and the dogs finally rounded the corner of the bedroom door at the commotion, sensing distress in their owners. Burger whined and scurried over to pace between them at their feet. Jelly jumped up to paw at Kankuro’s thigh for attention. The dog’s soft ear found his searching fingers, and he finally released the sniff he’d been holding back.

He took a shuddery breath. “So what if I want to marry you? At least I’m not a coward.”

Kiba growled. “At least I’m not trying to force someone into a relationship they don’t want…or have you really forgotten what that feels like?”

The dust settles, and Kankuro stared unseeingly around their bedroom.

Their home of six years.

Their dogs.

Their life.

He swallowed around the lump. “So, you’d be forcing yourself to marry me, like I had to do with Cinta. That’s what you’re insinuating. Chaining yourself to me for the rest of your life. You’d be trapped…c-caged. How awful that would be,” he choked as his throat cramped even more. A tear finally escaped the confines of his eye and rolled down his cheek.

As if sobering up, Kiba gasped and moved towards him. “Kankuro, no I didn’t-“

It was Kankuro's turn to step back and out of his reach. Kiba’s hands were outstretched, with a look on his face as if he’s just dropped something precious and fragile and doesn’t really know how it happened.

Kankuro closed his eyes, afraid to look into those across from him. “I-I’m sorry that the thought of committing to me is such a confinement for you, and yet such a dream for me.”

“Kankuro, I’m _sorry_. There are other ways. Come here, please. I just meant-”

But Kankuro had had enough.

“-No, you’re right. I’m not going to be able to get past this now,” he reached up to grab his scrolls once again, taking the chance to rub his watery eyes and nose with his sleeve. He moved towards the window and perched up on it. Allowing himself one look back, he takes in Kiba’s heartbroken and shell-shocked expression. “Y-You saved me from marriage before…allow me to save you from this one.”

Then he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiba reflects.

Kankuro had left the window open when he’d left. 

This bothered Kiba. Mostly because, on a normal day, if Kiba was the one who opened the window, Kankuro would have nagged and nagged about it. He’d have walked into their room and, like he was allergic to a light breeze, rush over and slide it shut. At the time, or all the times, this happened, Kiba had just rolled his eyes. The dry season in Episar was always tough, and unlike his boyfriend, he didn’t benefit from the perks of a shorn head. A little bit of air would do the place good, would do Kiba good. But Kankuro would just wave his hands at Kiba with shoulders high up around his ears, and make vague spluttering about bugs. Kiba didn’t mind bugs, but he’d apologise anyway with a toothy smile and promise to remember next time. And on a normal day, Kankuro would crawl over on top of Kiba and lay on him in retaliation, his heat seizing back what little reprieve he’d gotten from the breeze.

But today wasn’t a normal day. 

There were small insects drifting in now. And had been for a few hours. Kiba watched them absentmindedly from where he lay propped up against the headboard. There was a stiffness to his neck that told him the angle he was laying at was going to cause pain later if he kept it up any longer, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the bugs, drifting in, and always drifting out. He didn’t know what had attracted them. There was no light on in the apartment, and no sounds save for the occasional whines of the dogs as they wandered the space, sniffing and anxious. Burger waited by the front door, and Kiba could see him if he turned his head. The smaller dog sat with his head in paws across the door mat, waiting for his master. Akamaru was laid out across Kiba’s lap, as if waiting for his own. 

A sharp sting had Kiba slapping his neck, and a small mosquito sat squished in the centre of his palm. He rubbed the little body until it rolled into a spindly ball, and then flicked it away. Kankuro would have chided him, and complained about having to sweep the floor later. Perhaps Kankuro shouldn’t have left the window open then. He’d better come back and close it. Any minute now, he’d return and grumble that Kiba had left it open all this time, and now there were flies in their apartment. Any minute now, he’d come back to close that window he left open. 

Any minute now. 

There were more bugs drifting out than in now. They’d looped around the apartment, discovered only Kiba, and the crushed remains of any who’d dared approach him. So they’d left. They were leaving. There wasn’t anything to gain by staying. 

One by one they trickled out, until it was so dark Kiba couldn’t even tell anymore. 

And still Kankuro did not return. He’d left, realising there was nothing to gain from staying. Nothing Kiba could give him after treating him like a bloodsucking insect. Kankuro wouldn’t become a crushed little body to be flicked on the floor. Wouldn’t let Kiba treat him like dirt to be swept up later. He wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t stand for it. 

He wouldn’t stand for Kiba keeping the window open either. 

So Kiba got up, shifting Akamaru to the side, and closed it. A perfect half-moon was rising over the hills in the distance with a single wispy cloud blurring its shape. But after a few seconds waiting to see the clear moon, Kiba realised the cloud wasn’t moving and in fact wasn’t a cloud at all. A ghosting of purple fingerprints smudge across the inside of the glass. He thought back to Kankuro’s hand hastily swiping across his eyes as he’d left.

He’d never seen Kankuro cry like that. Never even imagined it could happen, despite Temari gleefully telling him what a crybaby he’d been as a child. He’d teased Kankuro about it then too, but had never seen it, never wanted to. And it burned him inside to think that he was the cause of it. He was the one making it happen, with his hurtful words that he realises now, or rather, realised it immediately when he first the tear, were born of nothing but jealousy and insecurity.

When he turns, Akamaru is sitting patiently on the bed and the room smells distinctly of dogs, and faintly of the bacon and coffee they’d had that morning. Kiba goes and sinks his face into his best friend’s neck. “I’ve really fucked up this time, Akamaru. He hasn’t come back.” He can feel tears of his own sticking to fur. Worry clenches in his chest then. What if Kankuro is hurt? What if he's been kidnapped? He pulls back, about to voice his concerns but realises that Knakuro is a jounin, and this time, there’s no evil bad guy to come between them, no Kutta to pull them apart and threaten to take Kankuro from him forever before they’d even begun. Instead it was just Kiba, cutting with words unneeded, and unasked for. 

“What if he never comes back?” 

Akamaru doesn’t respond, but he does lick Kiba from his forehead to the crown of his head, then nudges his cheek and dislodges him from the embrace. He pokes Kiba’s cheek with his nose again, intending to wipe away the dampness but instead just adding his own slobber. The comfort feels like family, even as he’s pushed his own away earlier. He needs to talk to someone. Usually, that would be Kankuro. 

He stands and takes a resolute breath, and decides to call his sister. 

—

“You’re an idiot,” sighs Hana so long and hard, Kiba had to hold the phone away from his sensitive ears while the phone static crackled as if to amplify her disappointment.

“I know,” he moans. He’s leaning back against the wall beside the landline, flicking despondently at their small list of phone numbers affixed to the wall. Hana’s is first on the list, followed by Temari and Gaara. They’d made it the same day they got the phone, and had excitedly written the list together, adding their friend’s digits after their family. Kankuro’s messy script appears much less than Kiba’s sloppy loops and at the time, he’d teased Kankuro for his lack of contactable friends. Now, he realises that this short list was his likely suspects for where Kankuro was right now. It was either his brother, or his sister. And like Kiba’s loved ones, they were more than a day’s journey away. Kankuro had probably travelled through the night, agitated and upset. It made Kiba remember accusing Kankuro of making no sacrifices, while his family also lay an exhausting journey away. His palm is warm where he smacks it against his forehead and cringes. “What was I thinking, Hana?”

“You're obviously going through something.”

“But I didn’t need to take it out on Kankuro!” 

“Oh, absolutely. I don’t disagree with you. Hey-“ She pauses, and he hears the rattle of a crate door closing. She must be at the clinic. There’s a rustling before she continues, clearer than before. “This is entirely your fault. You let your jealousy over that other dude’s actions hit you right in the insecurity. And for some dumb reason, you decide to project all those commitment issues back onto Kankuro.”

“It’s not about commitment issues!” He groans again, and taps his forehead against the wall. “I told myself I’d never be that person. That’s the whole point.”

“The whole point? You don’t want to get married because you don’t want to have commitment issues? How does that make…” Her sentence fizzles out. Then, “…Is this about dad? And mom?” His own silence speaks volumes and before he can even reply, she continues. “Because you and Kankuro are nothing like them. You’re nothing like him. And you never will be.”

It’s like his sister has a personal view of his thoughts, and he wondered if it’s that scary ability to understand an unvoiced problem that makes her such a good vet. It’s astounding really. And he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to explain. But also right now he finds her talent annoying. Is he really so transparent? Pointing out his flaws isn’t going to help him Kankuro back, is it? Doesn’t change the fact that he’s acted exactly like his father, and lashed out the minute things get tough.

“So what?” He growls out. “Look at what I’ve done! It’s exactly like dad. I’ve hurt him, Hana. I was jealous and dumb and-and I brought up the marriage thing again even thought I know he’s okay with it. I just-I just don’t know what to do next. What do I do?” With a sense of deja vu, he remembers his earlier worry, and suddenly he needs his big sister to assure him he hasn’t messed up completely, even though he feels assurance is the last thing he deserves right now. “What if he doesn’t come back, Hana?” 

“Look, take a breath for me. Let’s calm down and think it out.” Her methodical instructions soothe him, and he’s reminded of Kankuro doing something similar when he’s freaking out over something. God, he needs him back. He’s family. He’s about to spiral again when Hana cuts in. “Are his creepy dolls still there?” Kiba’s eyes flick over to some of Kankuro’s prototype heads which hang on the wall above his workbench. It’s both the most organised and messiest part of their apartment, and the reason Kankuro continues to shave his head, sick of pulling wood shavings from his hair. The puppets stare back at him accusingly, although Kankuro admitted to purposely carving them like that to freak out his enemies. Still, Kiba has grown fond of the figures, couldn’t imagine the apartment without them now, and indignation builds up when he feels he needs to defend those who cannot defend themselves.

“If you are referring to his battle puppets, then yes they are still here. And don’t you dare call them ‘creepy dolls’. They are Kankuro’s art and-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘And puppetry is one of the most difficult and respected techniques not just in Suna but all across the continent.’ I know your spiel already. Chill out. Kankuro’s not even there to impress. Look, he’s left his ‘battle puppet’ behind. And, more importantly, you. He’ll be back.”

“…You sure?” He’s picked himself up off the wall. “You know so?” 

“Positive. And all I’d say is, you better have an ace apology ready. I mean on your knees.” 

Panic courses through him. “You think I should propose?! But I told you-“

“No, I’m not saying you should propose! Calm down.” Hana huffs a breath out through the phone, as Kiba’s heart rate races. “I just meant you’ll be begging for him back. One mention of the word ‘knee’! You’re terrified. Is this what you’re like with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when he brings it up, do you react that strongly? I’m just saying, it’s a little intense, Kiba. Why are you so opposed to marriage? I mean, I get it where you’re coming from, but like, is this not a little much? Don’t you plan to spend the rest of your life with Kankuro anyway? I don’t really see where this intense reaction is coming from. Is this really just about dad?”

Kiba closes his eyes, all too aware that yes, their father is the exact and only reason he’s so scared of this. He hates to admit it but he has daddy issues. And right now, they are causing him to ruin his relationship. 

“Dad was an asshole. I don’t want to repeat his mistakes,” he admits. “By that I mean, I don’t want to marry Kankuro and then hurt him later. Mom always said that Dad was fine until they got married, and what if I’m the same? What if I abandon everything like dad did? I know what it’s like to be left behind. And I can’t do that to anyone. I can’t do that to Kankuro.”

“I mean…isn’t what you’re doing now kinda…just as bad?” The accusatory tone of her voice puts him immediately on edge and he begins to speak, ready to defend his reasons. But she cuts him off. “Just listen. The way I see it, you’re upset, because you’ve upset Kankuro, right? And you know you’ve done wrong and gone too far. But you’re not going to get him back if you don’t understand why.”

“But he’s upset because I don’t want to get married. And he thinks it’s cause I don’t want to marry him.”

“But that’s kinda what it comes across. You got mad at Kankuro because he didn’t explain he was in a committed relationship quick enough. That’s a complicated and demeaning conversation you’re expecting him to have every time someone asks him if he’s married. ‘Hey, not I’m not married because my long-term boyfriend who I’ve been with for six years and share a home and a career and a life with has daddy issues the size of the Hokage Monument surrounding the unrealistic notion that the minute we sign a document our he’s transform into a scumbag who abandons their family when the going gets tough. But he still loves me though, I swear. He just fears marriage more. Also, if you ask me that again he’ll start an argument once we get home so please don’t ask again.’ Do you see how ridiculous that is, Kiba? God, I feel sorry for Kankuro, I really do. ”

“I don’t fear marriage more than I love him,” he defends, although her words have him remembering their first conversation two years ago when Kiba informed Kankuro that he was against marriage. It wasn’t even a discussion really, he recalls. He just informed his boyfriend that it wasn’t on the table. And Kankuro had accepted it. Just. Like. That. “He means so much more than marriage!”

“I mean, do you though? What if he had made an ultimatum? Marry him, or you’re done? Because I know that you would freak out and just bail in that scenario. You hate feeling trapped. Actually…maybe that’s exactly like…” 

“…dad,” Kiba says, as his stomach plummets to somewhere in his lower abdomen. 

Hana doesn’t disagree, and she continues, like suddenly she’s come to the same conclusion. “And yet…Kankuro knows this. And he didn’t make any demands. Or ultimatums. Or argued. Instead, you were the one who made more demands. I mean, obviously, you’re way more important to him than a ring. He’s shown that much. But, Kiba, can you say the same?”

Kiba can’t even respond. His sister’s words are damning. Instantly, he knows how little he’s communicated to Kankuro about his feelings on this, and how demanding he’d been on top of that. And Kankuro had been so accepting, and so understanding. And suddenly he feels even more like a dick than he had ever before. Somehow he’s led Kankuro to believe that there was anything in this world that he values more than him.

“And no one is saying you have to get married if you really don’t want to. But you can’t have your cake and eat it too, Kiba. That’s a bit selfish, you know?” 

And he knows, he knows now how selfish he’s been. And he knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. He’ll show Kankuro that he loves him more than anything. 

“Hana, I’ve gotta go. I gotta fix this. I’ve been so so so dumb. Thank you,” he adds hurriedly, and hangs up barely hearing her own goodbye. Instantly he’s at the front door, putting on any old pair of shoes he can find and ready to head out and- 

Oh wait. He glances out the kitchen window. It’s nighttime. The store he needs to visit would be closed now. He’s about to panic before he realises that Kankuro, if he does come back, would probably be another day or two at least. He has time to plan. He’s about to take off his shoes again, when he realises Burger is looking up at him with large excited eyes. 

Oh, these are Kankuro’s dog walking shoes. Suddenly there are many furry bodies around him and the thump-thump-thump of wagging tails hitting off his legs. He continues pulling on the shoes, then smiles and opens the door. The dogs bolt out, and he follows, perhaps needing a walk himself to clear his head and burn off some energy. 

After all, he had lots to do tomorrow, on his day off. 

—

It’s late on Sunday night, two days since Kankuro left, that he hears it. The jingle of keys and the turning of a lock. 

He was back. 

Like the dogs, Kiba runs out of the bedroom on all fours and makes it to the door just in time to see Kankuro’s bare face peek through. He looks exhausted, but his eyes quickly turn soft when he sees Kiba waiting for him, bouncing on his toes. Their tension is forgotten with the need to be close again, and they meet in the middle, crushing the shoes lying haphazardly in their entryway and leaving the door wide open. Two strong arms wrap around him at the same time as he eagerly buries his face in Kankuro’s neck and takes a deep breath. It’s an embrace they’ve done a thousand times, two thousand times, but to Kiba it feels as new as when they’d first been dancing around each other six years before. 

Kankuro is back. He hasn’t left, never to return. He’s decided that he’s had enough of Kiba’s bullshit. He’s returned to him, returned to them. And the relief is tangible, it sweeps through him and weighs him down until gravity brings him literally to his knees. 

Then abruptly he’s looking up at Kankuro, and without the facepaint, Kiba can see the confusion on his face. He reaches down, perhaps to lift Kiba up again, but Kiba shakes him off. He pulls a small box from the pocket of his sleep shorts. He’d purchased the ring first thing on Saturday morning, and he’s had it on him ever since, waiting for this moment. Kankuro’s eyes widen at the sight of the box, and he crouches over once Kiba opens it to reveal a simple dark metal band. Kankuro covers his mouth with his hands, and Kiba loses his battle to get him to remain standing. A mission scroll loosens itself from Kankuro’s belt as he stumbles to the ground, and it falls beside the crushed footwear spread around him.

They are kneeling facing each other when Kiba asks the question. “Kankuro, you mean more to me than anything. I’m sorry I ever let you think otherwise. Will you marry me?”

And they are still kneeling facing each other when Kankuro gives his answer. Kiba’s heart is ready to burst out of his chest as Kankuro stares down at the ring in Kiba’s grasp. There’s tears in his eyes again, and Kiba chastises himself for making him cry once more. There’s a full four seconds of silence, where neither of them move, except for the thump-thump-thump of tails jostling them around them. Then Kankuro lowers his hands and instead reaches forward to hold Kiba’s cheeks before bringing their foreheads together and whispering- 

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spends two and a half months stressing about work. Post this chapter. Scurries back to stress about work. 
> 
> Thanks for those still reading my little story! I still read all the comments, even if I'm a bit useless at getting back to them. Thanks again, it is really appreciated. :3 
> 
> I also realised that it's nearly coming up to a year since I posted this little Kankiba story (on March 3rd to be exact) and it seems surreal to think that this story started as a project to keep me distracted from some personal issues to becoming something to keep me distracted from global issues. Anyway, the last chapter will be out soon, and I want to thank everyone who's made it this far in my little story. As always, you can find me over on tumblr under the same username 'kranquro'. Thanks to those who have flipped over to contact me, I've met some great friends through this story and as always thanks to Ruru, my ride or die. We have the range. 
> 
> krank x :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro reflects.

Kankuro makes it to Suna in record time. Over the years, he and Kiba have made the journey again and again, so much that they’ve turned it into an art form. Even making friends at different stops along the way. But this time he’s travelled all through the night, and much of the morning, without stopping and it’s safe to say he stumbles through the door of Gaara’s office in an absolute state. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes and yesterday’s makeup but if Gaara is startled, he doesn’t show it. Instead he stands and gestures for Kankuro to sit on his most recent addition to the room; a brand-new green couch. Kankuro throws himself down onto it, just as Gaara follows to sit beside him. 

“Kankuro, have you been crying?” Gaara asks so calmly, and Kankuro is so exhausted. 

“Yes…Dammit. Yeah,” he curses like he hadn’t crossed the desert in half the time just to talk to his baby brother about his problems. “I had a fight. With Kiba.” And seeing the small crease of confusion in his brother’s brow, he adds “Because he doesn’t want to marry me.” With Gaara, it’s best to just explain everything clearly, although even his disconnected brother was able to tell that something was wrong by his appearance. 

“And…he made you cry.” Kankuro isn’t looking when he hears this, but the tone of his voice is one that has him tensing involuntarily. He remembers a hint of that tone from childhood.

“You’re not allowed to kill him, Gaara,” he blurts out while turning to face him. “I’ll definitely cry more if you sand-coffin his ass.” His brother’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is crinkled in displeasure. Gaara’s developed a habit of folding his arms in meetings when he’s annoyed at something, and Kankuro can see he’s doing it now. Even Gaara can sense his distress. 

And he is in distress. Kiba’s spiteful words still cut deep, and he wonders if leaving was the right thing to do. Maybe he should have stayed and talked. Instead, he’d run like a coward. Kiba was just being dumb, like he’s been countless times before, but the truth behind his words had hurt this time. Really hurt. And he just needed...time. He needed a distraction, to clear his head. There’s no way he was abandoning Kiba, he just needed to collect his thoughts. 

But his thoughts were catching up with him faster than he expected. What if Kiba thought they were over? Kankuro remembers his own words. You saved me from marriage before, allow me to save you from this one. Did that sound final? Oh, thinking back now, after he’s had over a day to run, he didn’t mean that at all. Did Kiba think they’ve broken up? He sits up abruptly and swears. He didn’t want to break up. He needed to-

“Fine. I won’t kill him,” Gaara says, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “But I can sense you need a distraction. Would you be able to advise me with a situation I’ve found myself in?” He doesn’t give Kankuro the option to decline as he swivels his body to sit sideways in the most uncharacteristically casual move Kankuro’s ever seen Gaara make. Unconsciously he mirrors the position, resting his own arm on the back of the couch. They look like school girls gossiping about cute boys and Gaara even goes as far as to twiddle his thumbs awkwardly.

“What’s going on?!” He eyes the room suspiciously, as if Temari is about to jump out from behind one of the large plants and tell him he’s being pranked. Gaara doesn’t do anything awkwardly.

And never one to beat around the bush, Gaara seemed to stall and stutter before finally he says “Do you remember when I was supposed to marry…and you took my place instead?” Kankuro is aghast.

“I mean…yeah? Kinda was a formative experience for me…why?” Kankuro is confused, but he can sense this is leading somewhere important. He leans forward. Gaara leans back.

“Oh…you need to wash, Kankuro,” he informs monotonously, ignoring Kankuro’s scoff of offence in reply. “Well,” he continues. “Do you remember when you told me that you didn’t think…I would be suitable…as a father?” 

Regret is a strange emotion. It’s pain, anger and shame all slathered like poison over a kunai which lodges itself deeply in your gut. Kankuro feels this now. He regrets saying the words years back in this very office, regrets that he felt he had to and regrets never telling Gaara otherwise in the aftermath. He realises now that the strangeness of his brother's behaviour this afternoon was him experiencing doubt. And doubt seeded by none other than Kankuro himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning in again despite Gaara’s aversion to his stench. He makes sure to catch his brother’s eyes as he clarifies. “I lied. I lied about it so you wouldn’t get married.”

The frown is back on Gaara’s brow. “You lied? How do you know you lied? It is not the truth? Is it not true?”

“No, Gaara. I made it all up. Because I wanted to protect you and your life and your choices.” He wraps his hand firmly around Gaara’s shoulder. “I said those things, because I was a dickhead and I felt that you would try to protect me as much as I was trying to protect you. I knew it would hurt you, but the alternative, that you would lose out on finding true love, that your life would once again be controlled and engineered…I didn’t want you to go through that. I wanted you to find love, real love. Not the arranged kind. So I said those things, to put you off. And, I’m really sorry I never told you. To be honest, you’ll make a great father some day. You’re the most patient person I know, and Shikadai loves hanging out with you. Way more than he likes me if I’m being honest.” 

Gaara, who was quietly staring at Kankuro for his entire speech, simply grasps his own chin lightly and says “Yes, I suppose you are right. Shikadai has told me I’m his favourite uncle.” He appears contemplative.

“Yeah, exactly. Wait. I was just being nice there. Shikadai actually said that? Why, that little brat! See if he gets any presents off me next time I visit Konoha.” There’s a hint of a smile on Gaara's face. “Oh wait, you’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” Gaara’s tone is wry. “You did say I’d make a great uncle, Kankuro.”

“Oh so now we’re going to hold this over me. I’m sorry, but if you’re making jokes then I’m going to consider myself forgiven.” Kankuro folds his arms in a huff and leans back onto the couch again. He’s expecting Gaara to say more, he knows there’s got to be more to this. The silence ticks over, and it’s just when he’s about to demand he spit it out, his brother decides then and there to blow Kankuro’s mind. 

“I adopted a son.”

Five seconds pass in silence. 

“His name’s Shinki,” Gaara adds. Kankuro just turns to look at his brother with wide eyes. “He’s very powerful. And I…think I can help him. He reminds me of me, when I was that age.” Gaara is twiddling his thumbs again. “I haven’t told Temari yet.”

Kankuro just breathes out in awe. “You’re a dad.”

“Father,” he corrects. “I’ll go by Father.”

“I can’t even get my boyfriend to marry me and you’re a father now. And you told me before Temari,” he adds gleefully. He grabs his little brother in a headlock. He’s never tried it before, but if there’s anytime to do it, it might as well be now. “You have a baby!”

“He’s five years old.” 

“A baby boy! Gaara, this is great news! I’m an uncle again!” He gasps loudly. “And I’ll be your son’s favourite uncle because I’m his only uncle!”

“…Wouldn’t Shikamaru and Kiba count?”

“Well, maybe I just won’t get back with Kiba and he’ll definitely not count.” And as soon as he says it, he realises how wrong the words feel. And he glumly releases Gaara from the headlock. His brother’s hair is all tousled, but he doesn’t bother to smooth it down as he turns to face him again. 

“Have you two separated?” 

“Kind of,” he starts. “Well, no. I sorta implied like we had. But I don’t want to. He just said some really dumb things like I said, and I got mad, and then I got sad. I remembered you asked me to come this weekend, I assume now to talk about your stork delivery-“

“-Shinki was not delivered by stork. He attacked me.-”

“- and so I left to get out of there. Wait, what? This kid attacked you?”

“My son did, yes. He is very powerful.” If Kankuro didn’t know any better, he would say Gaara was proud of the little tike managing to challenge the Kazekage.

“Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, eh?”

Gaara eyes him curiously. “We are not blood-related, Kankuro.”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.” 

“‘Obviously’?”

Kankuro grins. “I mean, unless Bowlcut has managed to squat his way to forming a uterus, then I’d very much doubt that Shinki is biologically yours. Although, considering Lee’s tenacity, it really wouldn’t surprise me.”

Gaara can’t even hide the blush that simmers to the surface of his ears and cheeks, so he stands instead and returns to his desk. “Please continue your story about Inuzuka-san.” 

“You got me there. Well,” he continues. “Kiba has never wanted to marry. It’s to do with his parents. And it’s a totally valid reason. But yesterday, we got into an argument when I told him that the council still tried to set me up. But before that this River Lord’s son tried hitting on me in front of Kiba and basically said if I wasn’t married I was as good as single. Kiba got mad, and we argued about it when we got home. I mean, I could totally have just told that River Lord that I was in a committed relationship. But, I froze…I guess. And then in the middle of the argument, I left. Like a coward.”

“So, you want to get married?”

“No! Well, yes. But not if Kiba’s doesn’t want to! I’m totally fine with not being married. I just want the commitment, I suppose. I just always have this lingering doubt at the back of my mind that he just doesn’t want to marry me. That I’m the problem.”

“But he loves you,” Gaara says. And it isn’t a question. His brother studies him with surety in his expression as if he had just stated that the sky is blue and the desert is dry. “Kiba would never want to part from you.”

“I know,” admits Kankuro and looks down at his hands. They’re still smudged with purple face paint. “And I’m the same. It’s enough for me, Gaara. It really is. Just to have him. And I don’t need a ring on my finger. I just need a duty of care. I need a promise. And a promise that he trusts me. Yesterday…I felt like he didn’t trust me. And I think that hurt the most. I would never force him to do something he wouldn’t want to do, especially when what we have is more than enough. Our life together. It’s more than I ever imagined for myself. And more than I ever dreamed of.”

Kankuro hears scribbling and looks back up to see that sometime while he was baring his feelings, Gaara has returned to the writing mission scrolls that had been on desk when he’d barged in. “Wow, Gaara. Rude.” 

“You need to shower,” Gaara responds. He signs the mission scroll and a wisp of sand brushes over it to dry the ink. “Return here to meet my son, before you go back to Episar and tell Inuzuka-san exactly what you just told me. And take this scroll to him while you’re heading there. I have a mission I need his expertise for.”

“Huh? That’s it? I practically fly here and you just tell me to take a shower and fuck off? Gee thanks, Gaara,” he complains as he swipes the mission scroll from his brother’s hands. “And act as a delivery man too while you’re at it.” He secured the scroll on his belt. “I’ll be back in twenty to meet this cute nephew of mine and you know what? I’m gonna uncle the shit outta your kid, you watch, he’ll be swinging puppets around before his next birthday. I’ll be the best uncle ever.”

“…But Shikadai already declared that position to be mine.”

“No, he didn’t! And if you keep insisting, then I’ll tell Temari you introduced your first born son to me before she even knew he existed!”

Gaara narrows his eyes. “…You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he snarls. He marches out of the office and teleports to the barracks for a much needed shower. He can rest later. He’s got family to meet.

—

He always thought that the sight of Kiba on his knees with an honest-to-god ring and a question would be one that would fill him with overwhelming joy. Instead he feels concerned, he can see the dark circles beneath Kiba’s eyes, the stains on his crumbled sleep shirt and the limpness of his hair. This feels like a desperate act, and Kankuro doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Kiba to ever feel like he had no other choice. So he follows Kiba to the ground and tries to ever so softly say the word he needs to say.

“No.”

Kiba’s face falls, as if he’s slipped right through Kankuro’s fingers where they cup his face in his hands. But Kankuro holds strong, titling Kiba’s face up before they can slide away to look somewhere less painful. “I mean I don’t want this for us. I don’t want you to feel like you have to propose to keep me. Honestly, I’m yours. I always will be, and I don’t need a wedding to prove that. You’re enough. Your word is enough. Please believe me.” Tears brim in Kiba’s eyes.

“But...you deserve to be happy.” He is trying to look away again, but Kankuro doesn’t allow him.

“I am happy. I have a wonderful life. I have clever dogs, and not so clever dogs. No offence, Burger. I have a warm home and a handsome, hot and sexy boyfriend whom I love, and who loves...me?“ The final part of that sentence filters out and Kankuro has the audacity to look away shyly himself.

“Oh my god, Kankuro are you seriously doubting whether I love you right now? I am literally on my knees asking you to marry me. I love you so much I would do it right now-“ Lips against his cut him off, and Kiba brings his hands up to wrap around Kankuro’s wrists where his hands are clutching too tightly and squishing his cheeks together. When he pulls back he laughs at the smushed face Kiba is making and drops his hands to wrap around his waist and pull him into a tight hug instead. 

“Thank you, but we’re forever,” he whispers into Kiba’s ear. “I don’t want a ring to tell me that. I want you to tell me that. Every day. For the rest of our lives.”

When Kiba wraps his arms around his neck, Kankuro feels what must be the opposite of the regret he’d become accustomed to in the past two days. Relief soothes where his remorse had ached, as if Kiba himself is a balm on his conscience. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, or The One, or that you’re destined to be with something. That’s all a load of bullshit as far as he is concerned. But in that moment he understands where those romantic notions have come from, as it feels like his entire existence has shifted into place. And his place is right there on the entryway floor, with Kiba’s warm body so real beneath his hands. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, perhaps a few seconds, minutes or hours. Or even when Kiba, sensing his exhaustion, had manhandled him from the floor and undressed them to lay in their bed. They cling to each other, alternating between periods of smiling, gazing and idle kissing. It’s intimate. It’s sickeningly sweet. And it’s perfect. He’s dropping off to sleep with Kiba’s head a welcome weight on his chest. Until abruptly it isn’t. 

Kiba’s gone to the kitchen, and even though they haven’t not touched in the past few hours, Kankuro feels his absence viscerally. He’s not embarrassed to say he lets out a loud groan of annoyance, which Kiba responds to with a bark of laughter from where he’s already returned to the bedroom door. He’s fiddling with some things in his hands. It’s dark so he turns on the bedside lamp and they both hiss at the glare. The dogs lying with them on the bed grumble and Jelly wiggles onto his back. They aren’t happy their owners are up at two am. Kiba’s shape is hazy at the bedside until suddenly there’s a leg looping over his abdomen and Kiba is straddling him. 

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, he certainly is now.

“Here,” Kiba says as Kankuro sits up on his elbows with interest. “I want you to wear this anyway.”

The cream ambient light of the lamp bounces off the dark metal of the ring. Kiba has robbed some puppet string from his supplies and wrapped it around to make a long necklace. Kankuro sits up with an ache in his heart that he’s unable to achieve the impossible of loving this man more. He nods, knowing that he’s choked up and it would be embarrassing for him to speak now. So Kiba takes it upon himself to loop the chord over his head and press the ring securely over his heart. It’s metal is cold against his skin, but he knows that it will be warm within minutes. 

He studies the ring as he rests his hands on Kiba’s hips in awe. “It k-kinda feels like you're staking a claim.” 

“I am,” says Kiba leaning forward until his lips are skirting up against Kankuro’s own. His breath feels hot against him, suddenly evaporating his remaining exhaustion. “You’re mine,” Kiba growls as he clamps his legs hard into Kankuro’s sides and presses him back into the mattress with his insistent lips alone. They’re moving together tightly now, with Kankuro’s hands seeking Kiba’s warmth across his back. He longs to feel him, it’s been days, and he can feel Kiba’s own need pressing up against his-

“Wait,” says Kankuro, as he pulls apart from Kiba with a loud smack. “What is that?” He reaches between them and pulls out the mission scroll Gaara had given him the previous day. He’d forgotten. He groans with frustration before handing it to Kiba, who’s sat back again. “It’s for you, from Gaara. He has a mission for you.”

“Oh yeah, I saw it,” Kiba pouts his own annoyance. “But it’s got both our names on it, that’s why I brought it in here.” Kankuro sits up again in curiosity. He hadn’t even inspected the scroll, too focused on crossing the desert twice in as many days. 

“Both of us?” Gaara hadn’t mentioned that. They’d gotten joint missions before, but he was usually briefed beforehand. “Open it.” 

Kiba breaks the seal and unrolls the document while Kankuro waits patiently for him to relay its contents. Meanwhile, he impatiently rolls his hips under Kiba once again but is peeved when he gets no response. Kiba is still reading the scroll, with disbelieving eyes and suddenly, a wide smile. “Oh my god, what even is your brother?”

“Let me see,” he says and Kiba bends for him to read the document. 

Date: 90-02-20   
Rank: S   
Shinobi assigned: Kankuro of the Desert (Sunagakure, Episar) and Inuzuka Kiba (Konohagakure, Episar)   
By order of: Gaara, the Fifth Kazekage   
Mission Targets:   
\- Love one another. In an official capacity. As ordered by your Kazekage.   
Duration: Until death.

“Gaara, what the fuck?” chokes out Kankuro. He reaches for scroll in astonishment. “This is literally insane. That meddling little bastard.” Kiba is still giggling above him. 

“I’m going to frame this,” he says, holding the scroll out of Kankuro’s reach. “Do you accept the mission, Kankuro? It’s a direct order from the Kazekage.” His grin is mischievous, and followed by a harsh grind down into Kankuro’s lap. 

“Fuck,” sighs Kankuro, closing his eyes. This is perhaps the easiest mission he’d ever complete. “Fuck, yesss.”

Kiba leans down to kiss him again, and Kankuro repeats the question back to him in between hot breaths. “Do you-hah-do you—accept?”

He feels Kiba smile against his lips. “I do,” he whispers. And it sounds like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to get the motivation to finish this story. Thanks again for every who has read and supported me in it's journey. This will be the end of this particular saga with Kiba and Kankuro. I hope you all enjoyed. It's been real. x

**Author's Note:**

> Is this an epilogue? A sequel? A time-skip? 
> 
> It is what is is. 
> 
> The part two I never intended to write but I just can't leave this story damn well alone.
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr if you wanna chat about this! (@kranquro) I love talking about this story and will talk about it with pride like it's my child who played Old McDonald badly at a piano recital.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D x


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